Mrs. Salisbury was really a little bit out of place among the
clever, serious young doctors, the architects, lawyers,
philanthropists and writers who belonged to the club. But her
membership therein was one of the things in which she felt an
unalloyed satisfaction. If the discussions ever secretly bored or
puzzled her, she was quite clever enough to conceal it. She sat, her
handsome face, under its handsome hat, turned toward the speaker,
her bright eyes immovable as she listened to reports and
expositions. And, after the motion to adjourn had been duly made,
she had her reward. Rich women, brilliant women, famous women
chatted with her cordially as the Forum Club streamed downstairs.
She was asked to luncheons, to teas; she was whirled home in the
limousines of her fellow-members. No other one thing in her life
seemed to Mrs. Salisbury as definite a social triumph as was her
membership in the Forum.

Her election had come about simply enough, after years of secret
longing to become a member. Sandy, who was about twelve at the time,
during a call from Mrs. Sargent, had said innocently:

"Why haven't you ever joined the Forum, Mother?"

"Why, yes; why not?" Mrs. Sargent had added.

This gave Mrs. Salisbury an opportunity to say:

"Well, I have been a very busy woman, and couldn't have done so,
with these three dear children to watch. But, as a matter of fact,
Mrs. Sargent, I have never been asked. At least," she went on
scrupulously, "I am almost sure I never have been!" The implication